Susan Sontag photographed by Peter Hujar.
She was born today in 1933 in NYC, although she grew up in Tucson, Arizona. She went to university in Chicago later returning to NYC.
Thirty years ago I read a great deal of SS when I was at art school/college; On Photography, Against Interpretation, Illness as Metaphor etc.
Later when I lived in NYC I saw her around; at the cinema, and the theatre, all downtown of course.
She was/is a very readable intellectual and I felt comfortable and stimulated with and by her books and ideas.
I am not "an intellectual" as such although I am interested in ideas.
Sontag, Bachelard, Daumal, Irigaray, Berger et al were the food for thought at the time I was a student. Sontag followed me through my continued life and I read and re-read her work until quite recently.
After she died I learned so much more about her personal life than when she was alive. I am not certain I wanted or even needed to know. Privacy is so rare to have and to keep these days. Not that it matters when you are dead I suppose. But it matters to me when I am left behind.
Is it knowing someone when you hear about their daily life or is it knowing someone when you read their work? Everyone has a day to day existence, not everyone writes good books. Although I am not saying it has to be mutually exclusive of course.
One thing I remember distinctly when she was interviewed by Terry Gross for NPR when her novel the Volcano Lover came out was that she said "Beauty was important to her".
Beauty as in beautiful people.
I thought about it for myself and realised beauty is very important to me also, but mainly in the landscape which surrounds me. That is very crucial to my well-being.
